


Tin Man

by DeanWinchesterIsTrans



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Kinda like a rewrite but not really, M/M, No major plot changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanWinchesterIsTrans/pseuds/DeanWinchesterIsTrans
Summary: Harry Potter but like... what if they're in love, dude.Basically just a Hogwarts Drarry fic in which Draco takes more after his mother's side of the family, and listens to people a bit more.Not exactly the most eloquent of a summary but give me a try.





	1. Philosopher's Stone

When they first met in Madam Malkin's, Draco had been trying to impress the boy. Dark skin, brilliant green eyes, messy hair, shabby clothes, and above all, suddenly the most handsome boy Draco had ever seen. Draco had no idea who he was, but that didn't matter to him in the moment. At the naive age of eleven, he figured he had met his true love.

Harry disliked him instantly.

Once again the impulsive eleven year old, Draco insulted Harry's new friend. He didn't understand how closely friends could get. Were supposed to get. He only hung around Crabbe and Goyle because their families knew each other. He didn't even know their first names.

Harry disliked him even more, and everything was going terribly.

Throughout Double Potions with Gryffindor Malfoy kept sneaking glances over at Potter. He told himself he was just seeing if he messed up anything, in which case he would sneer and point it out to Crabbe and Goyle, but he was truly curious about how Potter was doing.

Harry Potter absolutely despised Draco Malfoy.

Upon learning he had flying lessons with Slytherin, Harry felt his stomach drop. Making himself look like an idiot in front of Malfoy? No, thanks. Draco was always talking about how great he was on a broom. Harry had no chance.

Draco was pacing in the Slytherin commons room. Most of his bragging was just exaggeration. Embarrassing himself in front of his own house would be bad enough but doing so in front of Potter would be mortifying. He could see the report now. "Draco Black Malfoy, cause of death: embarrassment in front of Harry Potter." He paced back and forth until his friend/acquaintance/only person who talked to him voluntarily, Pansy Parkinson, spoke up.

"Calm down. It will be fine, and if for some reason it goes wrong, and he laughs, I will break his nose."

Malfoy should be worried about Pansy's tendency to immediately suggest violence as a solution, but he only said, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

At the flying lessons, Potter's broom leapt into his hands the moment he said, "UP!"

Draco's did the same, and he looked over to see if Harry had seen that, but he seemed too preoccupied by the other Gryffindors to notice. Well, Malfoy would have to fix that in a hurry.

Scooping Longbottom's Remembrall off the ground, he kicked off up into the air. "Come and get it, Potter!" he called. He grinned excitedly when Harry payed attention and got onto his broom to follow, but his smile slipped slightly when Potter began to fly better than Malfoy himself had.

After Professor McGonagall had come outside, furious with Harry, and dragged him back inside the castle, Malfoy wandered back over to Parkinson. "Do you think he's alright?" he whispered.

Pansy only rolled her eyes in response.

Harry technically had Malfoy to thank for the broom and the position of Seeker. Technically. He got butterflies in his stomach whenever he thought about that, but he just told himself that was because of the fifty foot dive to recover Neville's Remembrall.

Malfoy burst into the Slytherin common room once more. "Pansy, I challenged him to a wizard's duel I'm going to die."

Pansy, not even asking who 'him' is, or looking up from her book replied, "He doesn't know any curses that could kill you, you'll be fine."

"I just meant to ask him if he was getting expelled but it just sort of slipped out," Draco panicked, "What on Earth was I thinking?"

"Don't go," she suggested casually.

"What?"

"Don't show up to the duel and call Filch on them."

"Pansy Parkinson, you are brilliant," Draco declared, flopping onto the chair next to her.

"Not as brilliant as Hermione," Pansy muttered. "Or as pretty."

"You seriously like that Mud--" Pansy's glare cut him off. "That Muggle-born?" Draco asked incredulously.

"You like that embarrassment Harry Potter. We're even in poor taste in crushes, I'd say."

Draco couldn't exactly argue with her there.

Harry was giddy at Malfoy's jealous reaction when Draco realized Harry was allowed to have a broom despite only being a first year. Serves Draco right for being mean to everyone all the time.

"We just had a run in with Malfoy, then with an angry Hermione and you're still smiling?" Ron asked, confused.

"Just excited about the broom," Harry half-lied. He was excited about the broom, but also simply from seeing Malfoy. He didn't know why, but he was starting to look forward to seeing the blond brat. He'd rather die than admit that, though.

Draco didn't want to go home for Christmas. Generally speaking, he disliked being at the Manor. He felt like a glass doll in a glass house, constantly evaluated for any flaws that would make a decent excuse to throw him out. He dreaded seeing his father again. Even the thought of presents didn't make him want to go back to Malfoy Manor. Any gifts were bound to be picked based on how visibly expensive they are, not whether or not they were useful, or if Draco would like them. He was aware that made him sound like a spoiled brat, but, well, he was.

Harry wondered what Draco was doing, even as he plotted with Ron and Hermione ridiculous ways to get him expelled.

Draco wanted to give Harry something for Christmas. He didn't know what, though. Eventually, he just pulled out a piece of paper. He drew a Snitch on it, then tapped the paper. "Vivere." The Snitch began to dart around the page, even crossing over to the back. Draco wrote carefully on the bottom corner "Merry Christmas." He didn't sign it, because that would mean admitting he actually thought about Potter, and cared about him, which he simply couldn't allow.

Draco put a charm on the page to make it weather resistant in case something happened to, and he folded it up carefully like a crane, just how that Ravenclaw girl, Lovegood, showed him how. He opened his window a bit, and blew the crane out the window, where it caught the wind and took off towards Hogwarts faster than seemed possible for a paper crane.

He liked drawing, and drawing pictures for people seemed like a decent present, at least in his opinion. He drew three more pictures: a pansy for Pansy, a portrait of his mother with her two sisters for his mother, and an approximation of what he believed Nargles to look like for Luna. They weren't very good, but at least you could tell what they were meant to be, which was an improvement from what his drawings had been at one point.

Harry picked up the paper crane from the floor next to the presents. In his hand it flattened out to reveal a Golden Snitch darting around the page. On impulse, he put his index finger over it. The Snitch didn't move until he removed his finger; it was actually playing with him. He smiled and tucked the paper in his pocket.

Draco was dead. He was so dead. Detention with Potter had the chance to be okay, but detention with him in the Forbidden Forest might just kill him.

Malfoy heard his voice slip up in fear. Potter smothered a laugh, and Draco really did wish something would come out of the Forest and eat him so he wouldn't have to stand there like that anymore.

When Hagrid switched Harry to pair up with Draco and Fang, Harry looked at Hermione pleadingly as if to say, 'Get me away from this jerk.' Hermione only replied with a pitying look in an attempt to silently offer her condolences.

"Pansy, I ran away like a coward, and I left him there," Draco worried. "Do you think he's alright? If he is, I can never face him ever again, but do you think he's okay?"

Pansy, who had fallen asleep on one of the chairs in the commons area, yawned and threw a pillow at him, before shutting her eyes again. "Shut up, Malfoy."

Harry hadn't been out of the infirmary in three days. Three. Days. Draco had no idea if he was dead, alive, paralyzed, comatose, perfectly fine, or what. To say he was worried would be an understatement. Pansy had long since given up on trying to keep him calm, moving on to pester Hermione only to find she too was panicking over Harry.

At the end of that third day, Hermione and Ron walked past where Draco was sitting in the halls because he was an anxious eleven year old with nothing better to do. Draco spotted Hermione's grin, and questioned, "What's the smile for, Granger?"

"None of your business, Malfoy," Ron snapped, standing in between the two.

"Harry's okay!" Hermione said excitedly, too happy to care who she was talking to.

Draco's shoulders dropped and he sighed with relief. "Good."

"Why do you care?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"That's none of your business," Draco sniffed, then stood up and walked purposefully towards the infirmary.

Harry heard approaching footsteps, so he shut off the light, took off his glasses, and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He had already seen Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione that day, so he didn't know who else might want to come by.

The footsteps stopped just by his bed, and Harry had to remind himself not to hold his breath.

He heard a voice -- Malfoy's -- drawl, "Glad you're not dead." Malfoy took a few steps back towards the door, then hesitated. Harry heard him approach again, and felt him press a kiss to his cheek, before he turned and ran away from the infirmary.

After he was certain Draco was gone, Harry switched the light back on. He sat up and put his glasses back on. Set on top of the pile of presents well-wishers had left for him was another paper crane. Harry picked it up, and it unfolded in his hands. A note in the same green cursive before wrote, "Get well soon - Draco."

Before leaving with the Dursleys, Harry could've sworn he saw Draco in the crowd. He looked like he wanted to say something to Harry, but a group of people passed between the two of them, and when Harry looked again he was gone.


	2. Chamber of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, romance actually happens

In the pile of letters, Harry could see Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, Hagrid's scribble, and Draco's careful cursive script. If Harry weren't so angry at the house-elf for stopping his letters, he might have been touched at all their letters, and felt a warmth fill his chest knowing his friends remembered him, and that Draco Malfoy remembered. Malfoy, of all people.

Draco wasn't worried. Of course he wasn't worried. Potter hated him, clearly, so that must be why he didn't return any letters. Of course. He wasn't worried at all.

Harry wondered why Malfoy would send a house elf to stop him from returning to Hogwarts when Draco had clearly written him a letter. He stopped wondering when he remembered how much Malfoy hated him. Right, he just didn't want to see Harry ever again. Of course.

"And I would remind you that it is not prudent to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear," Lucius Malfoy reminded his son.

Draco scowled. What about '... everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter, with his scar and his broomstick' implied he wasn't fond of Potter? Quite the opposite really. Though, he figured his father realizing Draco was overly fond of him might bring the same reaction. Draco could picture it now: 'And I would remind you it is not prudent to be fond of Potter now that the Dark Lord may have returned...'

Draco Malfoy? Jealous of a Weasley girl? Never. Okay, maybe just a little.

Potter wasn't at the feast. He wasn't at the feast and Draco was going to die from an anxiety-induced heart attack if Harry kept on doing things like this.

Draco laughed about the insult in front of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but in reality he felt awful. He was reading through his textbooks, trying desperately to keep up. First year he thought he could glide by on name alone, but this year he knew better.

"You look troubled," Luna Lovegood said softly. "What's the matter?"

"How do I stop being a jerk?" he asked her, not quite expecting an answer.

"Well," she began, "I've heard that apologizing is the best first step, and that making amends is a good way to continue, and making a conscious change in yourself is a great way to make it stick."

"I'll try that. Thank you, Luna." Draco gave her a small smile, then returned to reading the absolute nonsense that was Lockhart's books.

Harry Potter decided that Draco Malfoy was the most horrible wizard he had ever met, and the next time he saw him, Harry would break his nose.

The golden trio were walking to dinner when Draco stepped out into their path. He looked strangely small without Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

"Granger, I'm--" Draco sighed. This was difficult. "-- I'm sorry for calling you that. It was wrong of me to."

Granger gave him a strange look, then nodded her head sharply, and walked on to the dining hall. Ron only glared, then followed after her. Harry stayed where he was, staring at Malfoy. Draco felt his cheeks heat up, then bit out, "Go ogle at your fan club, Potter. I hear Lockhart's trying to organize a photo signing for them."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the mention of Lockhart. "What if I'd rather stay here and stare at you instead, what about that?" he challenged.

Malfoy very eloquently replied, "Um..." then ran off.

Harry went to the dining hall and sat next to his friends, looking like he had just ran into a brick wall. "What happened? Did he Stun you?" Ron asked with a mouth full of food.

"No," Harry replied absentmindedly. "I don't know what happened." He sighed wistfully, and Ron and Hermione traded equally concerned looks.

Draco pushed his way to the front of the crowd that had gathered around Potter and the dead Mrs. Norris, and sharply elbowed the first year Slytherin that had shouted, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

Harry thought Draco might not be as bad as he had thought, but as Ron laid out the evidence... he was beginning to be convinced Malfoy may actually be the Heir of Slytherin. His apology could have been fake, only saying it to cover up after himself. He seemed sincere but, well, he's in Slytherin. What would keep him from faking an apology?

Draco had lost. He had lost the Quidditch game because he was too focused on Potter to think about the actual reason he was there up in the air. He swore to himself he wouldn't let that happen again... even as he ignored his studies to worry over how Potter was stuck in the infirmary overnight. He'd start focusing on more important things after Harry got better.

Snape partnered them up for the dueling club. Of course. Draco wouldn't be dumb enough to let that distract him this time, though. Doesn't matter how handsome Potter is, he's still going down, Draco internally declared.

When Ron told Harry just how bad it was that he was a Parselmouth, a faint thought crossed over his mind wondering if Draco got scared, or maybe thought it was cool.

Wow. Potter could talk to snakes. That's so cool.

Malfoy still had to keep up pretenses around Crabbe and Goyle. He knew he had to continue making cruel jokes, otherwise his father would be told immediately, and Draco would be declared a blood traitor and burnt off the family tree. During that one odd Christmas break evening, Crabbe and Goyle weren't laughing as much at his jokes as usual, and he started to stammer through them, mentally kicking himself each time he couldn't say a word right.

On the way back to the bathroom, Harry asked Ron, "Do you think Malfoy's alright? He seemed... off."

"We find out he's not the Slytherin Heir, and that's what you're worried about?" Rom pointed out, his hair rapidly regaining its red hue.

Harry shrugged, Goyle's bulky shoulders steadily shifting back to Harry's usual size. "It's just that I've never heard him stammer before."

"Priorities, mate. Priorities."

"It didn't seem like his heart was in it," Harry pointed out again, his voice sounding like his own once more.

"If you say so. He still said all that nasty stuff, though."

"True."

Valentine's Day was approaching, and Harry was getting antsy. He didn't know what to expect, which made it an incredibly stressful day to think it about. And to make things worse, Lockhart seemed to be excited about it.

"Today, ladies and gentlemen, we are going to talk about love..." Lockhart announced dramatically to his tired second year Gryffindor class. "And more importantly, love spells, and how to resist them." After a great pause, probably waiting for applause, he continued, "Now first we need two opposites. Two who couldn't be further apart."

Lockhart looked around the room at the couple excitedly raised hands, and decided to pick on the one student who looked like he wanted to sink into the desk and disappear more than anyone else. "Now how about... Harry Potter -- come on up here, yes there you go -- and you there! In the hall!" The student in question was the most startled deer-in-the-headlights Slytherin they had seen all year. "Draco Malfoy! Come on in here."

Malfoy wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever was going on in that classroom. "I have homework I'm on my way to do, Professor." Not exactly a lie, but he would've said anything to get out of that situation.

"Nonsense, nonsense, I'll write you a pass," Lockhart declared, having no concept of how homework works, and waved him in.

Draco looked as if he wished to kill Lockhart where he stood, but still skulked into the classroom.

"Ah, to be young and in love." Lockhart got Harry and Draco to stand next to each other at the front of the room, and neither of them looked at each other. "Now there are different kinds of love-control. There are love potions, love enchantments, et cetera, et cetera. Now, another form of enchantment is the allure of a Veela, but you shouldn't have to worry about those here. All of these forms of magic can cause two opposites to attract."

Lockhart tried to get them to stand as if they were dancing, but when he tried to put Harry's hand on Malfoy's waist, Draco jerked out of Lockhart's grip and hissed, "Don't touch me!" He hurried out of the classroom, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Unperturbed by Draco's exit, Lockhart continued on, "Ah, but none of those can top the most magical love of all: true love, real, natural love."

Harry returned to his seat, his face burning. He lay facedown on the desk, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from his friends.

After class ended, Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. "I'm going to go find Draco-- see if he's okay after getting humiliated by Lockhart."

He slipped out of the classroom amidst choruses of, "Whatever, mate," and, "See ya, Harry."

Harry followed along the halls, taking whichever turn he felt like, hoping he would run into Draco that way. Unlikely as it might seem, he eventually saw Draco tucked up into an alcove like a scrawny bird. Harry hopped up next to him, jostling his shoulder in a way he hoped was friendly.

Draco still didn't look at him.

They sat there in silence for a moment. Harry spoke up, "Lockhart's a jerk."

Draco snorted.

Another minute passed. "I know you like me, and before you say anything," Harry said, blurting out the last bit at Draco's death glare, "I like you too."

Draco took a moment to think about Harry's statement, then hummed and leaned over, bumping Harry's shoulder back.

Harry was about to jump down and find Ron and Hermione again when Draco cupped his face and kissed him softly. When Draco pulled away, he looked just as shocked as Harry felt.

Reading Harry's expression wrong, Draco began to stammer, "S-sorry, I should, I should go now--"

Harry grabbed the front of his robes and clumsily kissed Draco back, efficiently silencing him better than any charm might.

They stayed like that for a little while longer until the loud unmistakable sound of several heavy textbooks hitting the floor rung out, startling them apart.

"Of all the people..." Ron muttered in awe.

Draco looked back and forth between Harry, Ron, and Hermione, then dropped back to the floor. "See you later, Potter," he said in what he hoped was a somewhat casual tone, then purposefully walked off.

"Mate, what the hell?" Ron asked.

"I... I really don't know," Harry said, looking after where Draco had ran off to. "That was nice, though... Oh, did I say that aloud?"

Draco raced into Slytherin commons. "Pansy. Pansy. Pansy."

"What," Pansy stated flatly.

"I kissed Harry."

She dropped her book and looked at him dead in the eyes. "What."

The next day, Harry and Draco held hands in the halls, and Fred and George whooped as they passed, "Get some, Harry!"

The day after, Percy caught Harry kissing Draco on the cheek and declared, "Five points from Gryffindor! ... Next time I catch you doing that. Just you wait until I find a Slytherin prefect, though."

While holding hands with Luna, Ginny caught them sitting next to each other in the library. Ginny and Luna waved at them, and Harry waved back. He poked Draco, who had fallen asleep, and Draco waved as well.

Harry could distinctly picture of Mrs. Weasley getting several letters from all her children at Hogwarts:

"Mother, Harry has been displaying atrocious amounts of public affection with the Malfoy boy. What I'm trying to say is that while he is breaking several rules, both of Hogwarts and of personal taste, he seems to be happy, so there's that..."

"Mum, Guess who Harry's dating? Here's a hint: I'm still going to aim all Bludgers at Slytherin's newest Seeker no matter how much Harry snogs him..."

"Mum, Guess who Harry's dating? Here's a hint: he's still going to get demolished at Quidditch as long as George and I are Beaters, no matter how often Slytherin and Gryffindor Seekers snog..."

"Mum, Harry is making the worst mistake of his life. Malfoy of all people! Malfoy! Anyways, he's happy with him for some reason, so I guess that's what matters, and the brat hasn't said anything mean to Hermione or I since, so..."

"Mum, I guess Harry's taken now, which makes him more approachable, actually. Also I've met this really odd Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood. She's rather pretty..."

After Harry managed to spectacularly dump all of his stuff out onto the floor, and he had taken his diary back from Draco, Malfoy cornered him in the hallway, once again without Crabbe and Goyle.

"Potter. I've been wondering... We're boyfriends, right?"

"Yeah."

"Nice."

Quite a bit later, Ron slammed Malfoy up against a wall. "Your father is a real piece of work, Malfoy! All these students being petrified-- Hermione even! -- and all he can do is take away the one man that can do anything about it!"

A crowd of angry Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs rapidly gathered around the scene, chanting and jeering. Draco froze, swallowing hard as he looked around. He spotted a gap in the crowd, shoved his way out, and ran off, not caring where he ended up.

Draco skidded into an old bathroom that seemed like it hadn't been used in years. He pressed himself into the closest stall and locked the door, sliding down onto the grimy floor.

His shoulders shuddered with tears, as a scared twelve year old is still a scared twelve year old no matter the situation. Draco hoped to all the stars in the sky that nobody would walk in just then and find him like that.

"What are you doing here?" he heard a voice warble out, echoing against the tiles. "Have you come to make fun of me too?"

A ghostly head popped out of the toilet in front of him and Malfoy flinched. He sniffled, rubbing his eyes with his robe sleeve like he was always told not to. "Why should I do that?"

"It's what everyone else does!" the ghost insisted.

"Well I don't care. My name's Draco Malfoy, what's yours?" Draco asked in an attempt to gain control of the situation and feel better.

"Everybody calls me Moaning Myrtle," Myrtle said with a sigh.

"What's your real name, though?" Draco asked.

Myrtle burst into tears. "It's been so long since someone asked me that! My name is Myrtle Warren." Her smile was watery, but it was a clear smile for sure.

"I should probably go to class," Malfoy said, both to inform her and to try to gather the confidence to leave. He stood up and exited the stall, pausing to look in the mirror to gather how unpresentable he looked.

Draco sighed at his reflection. Messy hair completely ignoring the way it had been styled back that morning, red eyes, crumpled robes, blotchy cheeks. He looked like he had just been crying in the bathroom for the past fifteen minutes. While true, it was unacceptable to let anyone else see him that way.

So Draco straightened his tie, brushed off his robes. Wiped off tears and snot, tried to fix his hair.

Myrtle was hovering over his shoulder, literally. "If you splash cold water on your face it makes your face look less red and blotchy from crying," she advised.

"Thank you, Miss Warren." Draco tried it, and she was right. He looked significantly less like he had been crying in the girl's bathroom for a while. He used some of the water to try to push his hair back into place, mainly succeeding.

"I think your hair looked better down," Myrtle told him.

Draco didn't particularly care, but he still thanked her, and left for class, one hand gripped tightly around his wand just in case.

Faintly behind him, Draco heard Myrtle call, "Come again soon!"

Harry glanced over to Slytherin when McGonagall announced the Mandrake roots were ready and that their friends would be un-Petrified soon. He wasn't sure why he always found himself looking to Malfoy whenever there was good news, but he did. Draco seemed to be scowling less than usual at the news, which Harry counted as a win.

Harry couldn't identify when he had started caring what Malfoy thought, but he did.

When McGonagall announced a celebratory feast in the middle of the night, Draco was hesitant, but stumbled half asleep into the Great Hall anyways. Harry was there, sitting at the Gryffindor table, covered in blood and slime, with the absolute widest grin on his face. He was laughing with Weasley and the newly un-Petrified Granger.

"Draco!" Harry shouted, running up to Draco and hugging him tightly without a care for how disgusting his robes were. He gave Draco a short kiss.

"What happened to you?" Draco asked, very unsure of what was going on, but really just going with it.

"Big snake. Reeeeealllly big snake," Harry explained, yawning, and leaning against Draco for support.

"Why are you covered in blood?"

"That?" Harry looked down almost as if he hadn't noticed. "Oh. That's mostly the big snake's."

"'Mostly'? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. All fine. I should probably, uh. Go back to my... yeah. Table! Table, yes, that one. That word. G'night." Harry was trying to make proper, coherent sentences, but such things are difficult for a twelve year old that hasn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours.

Luckily, Malfoy seemed to follow his train of thought at least somewhat. "Try not to trip over anything."

Harry did a mock salute that made far more sense in his head, then walked back to his friends for a long, tired, celebratory night.

He had hoped Draco might sit with them on the train ride back, but by around their third game of Exploding Snap, Harry had forgotten all about that.


	3. Prisoner of Azkaban: Draco Malfoy and the Funniest Joke Ever I Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all. This is where we go from a book per chapter to a couple chapters for each book. They will all be labeled with which book they're from, just figured I should say that.

Draco strode up to their compartment alone.

"I don't have long, I just managed to distract Crabbe and Goyle for a short while. Figured I might come say hello."

Draco looked... different. His hair was no longer slicked back with enough gel to make it practically solid. Short on the sides, longer on top. A lot taller, and voice a bit lower.

Belatedly, Harry replied, "Hi."

Draco smirked, and Harry forgot how to breathe. "I should probably head back though. Nice seeing you, Granger, Weasley, Harry."

After Draco left, and the compartment door slid shut, Ron turned to his friends. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"That was weird," Hermione said, looking over at Harry and then back to where Malfoy was just standing. "I need to do research."

"I... What?" Harry asked, still not having caught up to the conversation.

"You were staring at him, mate," Ron told him. "More than usual."

"I don't-- I don't stare at Malfoy," Harry weakly protested.

"Yes, you do," Hermione and Ron said at the exact same time.

When Draco made it back to his compartment, Pansy was holding a book, a shit-eating grin on her face. She held it up for him to see the title. "Veela Inheritance: A Guide"

Draco tried to snatch it out of her hands, but she held it out of his reach. "You looked through my stuff!" he protested.

"Dracie, you could've put twenty hexes on that bag and I still would have looked through it," Pansy declared. Draco tried to climb across her to reach, but she just put a hand on his face and shoved him away.

Blaise, while applying gold eyeliner, asked, "So if you're Veela does that mean you're going to be a cheerleader instead of a Seeker this year?"

Draco stopped trying to take his book back from Pansy, to sit beside her. He kicked Blaise in the shins. "Fuck off."

"Gladly," they said, then dramatically winked.

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Why are we even friends, Zabini?"

They hummed thoughtfully. "You love me?"

"Nope. That's definitely not it," he insisted, peeking out from behind his fingers.

Blaise maturely stuck their tongue out at him.

"You're both surprisingly calm about this," said Draco hesitantly. "I mean, really."

Pansy just laughed. "I'm a lesbian, Draco. Your aesthetics are alright I suppose, but you're a boy, which means I personally do not give a damn if you're Veela."

"I've shared a dorm room with you for two, going on three, years now," explained Blaise, putting away their makeup. "No amount of Veela genes will burn those embarrassing images of you out of my head."

After a little bit, Pansy asked bluntly, "So are you gonna grow a beak?"

"No!"

"Are you going to nest?" Blaise chipped in. "Or maybe have wings?"

"I don't know! That's why I have the damn book! Pansy, give it back!"

Pansy just passed it over to Blaise. "Ooooh look at that... Fascinating. What if that happens? Pansy, how funny would that be?"

"Give it back!" Draco dived for the book, and Zabini stood up and held it up as high as they could. Instead of jumping for it, Draco tickled Zabini. Blaise dropped the book immediately into Draco's open hands.

"Malfoy you little cheater!" Blaise exclaimed. Draco bowed, deciding to take that as a compliment. Unfortunately for him, Pansy snatched the book out of his hands the moment he did so.

"Hey!" Draco tried to tickle her too, but Blaise was quicker, and he started to tickle Draco.

As Draco collapsed to the seat, giggling uncontrollably, Pansy stood above him and announced as if at a funeral, "Let it be known that Draco Malfoy, thirteen year old pureblood wizard, is incredibly ticklish, and that was his downfall. A moment of silence for his loss." As Draco continued to laugh during the declared moment, Pansy glared at him. "You're ruining your own moment of silence." He flipped her off. "For shame! Never before has a corpse treated me so unfairly! That's it! The final straw! Write me out of your will, I don't need your dirty money anyways! And I knew about that affair that happened twenty five years ago!"

At this point Blaise had stopped tickling Malfoy, but he hadn't stopped laughing. "Affair?! With whom my love?" he managed between wheezes.

"Oh, you know..." she said, pretending to wipe away a tear.

"No, I don't know who."

"You Know Who!" Pansy declared, then froze as she processed what she had just said. She tried to keep a straight face, as did Draco and Blaise when they all thought about it, but then Blaise snorted and they all lost it.

Hermione decided she needed answers immediately, so she walked up to Draco's compartment, only to find this mess of Slytherin third years sobbing with laughter. Pansy's laugh had fallen to snorts and giggles. Blaise's laugh had turned to more of a cackle. Draco's laugh had turned to wheezing. They were all in tears, and collapsed over one another.

"What's going on here?" Harry asked.

Draco, Blaise, and Pansy all looked at one another, before blaming each other all in unison. They all laughed again.

"You tickled me! It was their fault," Draco blamed Blaise.

"She took your book! That wasn't my fault! It was hers!" Blaise blamed Pansy.

"He left his stuff out!" Pansy blamed Draco. "His fault, not mine."

Draco tried to pull himself upright and collect himself. "Not my fault you're nosy, Parkinson." They all took deep breaths, trying to pull themselves together, until Draco whispered under his breath, "Affair of twenty five years with the Dark Lord."

They burst into laughter again, and Hermione tapped her foot, irritated. After what she deemed to be an acceptable period of time, such as five seconds, she asked, "Was it this book?" Hermione snatched Veela Inheritance: A Guide from the seat.

"Granger, give that back!" Malfoy protested.

"But why would you need a book on Veela inheritance?" Hermione asked coyly.

"Take a fucking guess!"

"Your boyfriend's part Veela," Hermione told Harry, just in case he missed it. Harry was still staring at Draco.

Draco frowned. "I don't actually have strong Allure, Granger. I don't know why he's like this."

"Puberty has been kind to you so far, that's all I have to say."

"Thank you... I think?" Draco asked awkwardly.

Hermione nodded once, then went back to her compartment with Ron.

Harry was still standing there. Draco snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face to try to get him to focus. "Potter. Potter. I'm still the same damn person."

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. "Yeah. Yeah! I know." He kissed Malfoy quickly, then grinned, following Ron and Hermione back to their compartment.

Back in Harry's compartment, Ron gave him a Look. "You've got it bad, mate."

"It's cute," Hermione added.

Defensively, Harry said, "No, no. It just took me a moment to get used to."

"Sure." Ron rolled his eyes.

The train began to slow.

"What the shit?" Blaise asked eloquently as the lights shut off.

When Harry stepped out of the carriage after they arrived, Draco was the first to rush over. "You fainted, Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron growled.

"I was worried, Weasley. That's all," Draco explained in a softer tone. "Are you okay, Potter?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine, thanks."


	4. Prisoner of Azkaban: Draco Malfoy and the Hatred of Being Thirteen

After dinner, Draco made his way down to the hospital wing. It wasn't too late that it would be closed just yet, and letters had been sent to Madam Pomfrey about this already.

"Hello?" Draco called, stepping into the room.

"Yes, yes. Come in, Draco. Step behind this curtain here. Sit up there. So, what changes have you noted so far?"

Draco nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get up on the bed. He may look graceful, but as a teenager, a lot of effort goes into that.

"Well, there are some things that could just be attributed to normal teenage... stuff. I've noticed that shiny things are more distracting than they were a while back. I want to collect them purely for that, not for any real use." Draco ducked his head, embarrassed at the magpie-like compulsion.

"No need to be embarrassed," Pomfrey assured him. "Have you experienced any aches or pains?"

"Mm no. I mean... a little bit, but mum says that's just normal growing pains."

Pomfrey took Draco's hand, examining the structure, and comparing it to her own. Deeming them human-ish, she said, "She may be right. You don't have to do this, but would you mind taking off your robes? I'd like to check bone structure, but it's a bit difficult with that much fabric in the way."

Draco stood up, and took off his robes, feeling awkward standing there in his regular clothes. Madam Pomfrey didn't comment on his awkwardness, as she already dealt with many awkward teenagers on a daily basis.

She circled him, looking him up and down. He forced down the urge to stand as if he were merely a doll in a shop under inspection. Draco took a deep breath, trying to not let her attention make him anxious.

Pomfrey cautiously put her hands on his back, trying to gauge if there were any signs of wings developing. Draco closed his eyes and swayed where he stood before he managed to find his balance again.

"Sensitive?" she asked.

"A bit," Draco admitted breathlessly.

"Would you take your shirt off? I need to check something." Draco took it off willingly, but huddled in on himself, insecure.

After a few moments, Pomfrey said, "No signs of actual wings developing, but you need to let me know if you feel any pains as they might be signs of further developments. You can put the rest of your clothes back on."

When Draco had done so and turned back round, Madam Pomfrey handed him a book. "Here, take this journal. I want you to document everything, daily. That way we can keep track of any developments. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone about this."

"Thank you," Draco said, taking the journal and straightening his tie.

"Oh course, dear." Pomfrey patted him on the shoulder warmly, and then he left for the Slytherin rooms.

A few days later, Draco had made some rather stupid mistakes. A flash, and he was on the ground. He had been stupid enough to insult Buckbeak, so he was paying the consequences.

Madam Pomfrey didn't seem concerned at Draco's injury. "Back again so soon, Draco?" she asked briskly as Hagrid set him down on one of the beds.

"I didn't listen to instructions and accidentally pissed off-- I mean made a hippogriff angry," Draco informed her, wincing.

She got him to sit up, then pushed up his sleeve away from the cut. Pomfrey cast a cleaning spell, then a healing spell.

Despite the wound closing neatly, she began to wrap his arm in gauze. "I'm not quite so sure how well your Veela genes might handle healing magic, so you might have to keep that arm in a sling for a bit to see how it holds up."

"I understand." Draco looked up at Madam Pomfrey and smiled. "Thank you."

"Do you think he's okay?"

"Harry, if you don't stop asking that, I'm going to hex you," Hermione threatened.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Harry agreed. After a minute of silence, he piped up again, "But do you think he's okay?"

He only got a moment's warning before he had to run out of the room to avoid several hexes flung at him.

"Weasley, help Malfoy," Snape droned, casting a glance at Draco's bandaged arm.

"Sir, I can handle myself," Draco protested.

"Weasley, help him," Snape repeated.

"If you try to help I'll hex your fingers off," Draco hissed at Ron.

Ron shrugged, then returned to his own potion.

"Weasley, why aren't you assisting Malfoy," droned Snape, looking almost excited to have a reason to criticize Ron.

Draco cut in. "Sir," he began, emphasizing the 'sir' sarcastically-- but it couldn't possibly be sarcastic because he's Malfoy, right?--, "If you treat me like a child, I won't be able to learn anything in this class."

Snape sneered hatefully at Malfoy for a moment, as if he saw someone else, then his expression returned to its usual boredom. "Suit yourself."

After class had been dismissed, and they were all out of the Potions classroom, Draco snarled, "I hate Snape."

Ron looked shocked, as did the rest of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins didn't seem to be too surprised, however. "But you're his favorite student!" said Ron.

"Yes, but he's still an ass dressed as a vulture, yelling at students for things out of their control," Draco said, irritated over Snape's treatment of, well, everyone that day.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "You don't seem to hate him in class."

"That's because pissing off my head of House isn't exactly the best idea," Draco explained, "The more he likes me, the better."

"So you just... lie to him about how you feel?" another Gryffindor asked.

"Yes...?" Draco looked confused. "That's surprising, why?"

"It's like working retail," one of the older Muggle-born Slytherins informed them.

Hermione and Harry nodded like they understood, but Ron still seemed confused.

"It's lying, and pretending to be polite so that someone likes you back," Pansy explained.

"Do you do that often?" Harry asked Draco, warily.

Draco assured him, "Not with other students." Draco ruffled Harry's hair. "I'm honest with you, Potter."

"You're an asshole with me," Harry pointed out, smiling anyways.

"Exactly." Draco pecked a kiss to Harry's cheek. "Honest."


	5. Prisoner of Azkaban: Draco Malfoy and the Constellations (An Awesome Band Name) / Harry Potter and the Justified Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it a smart idea for Draco to do this at thirteen? Probably not, but going to a school where the Headmaster is a guy who thinks having thirteen year olds do his dirty work is a solid plan isn't a smart idea either, but Malfoy still goes to Hogwarts. So here we are.

On the trio's way through the halls-- after Hogsmeade, before the feast--, they ran into Draco Malfoy, grinning wildly.

"Hey Malfoy!" Harry called, "What's the smile for?"

Draco waltzed over and took Harry's hand. "I got a tattoo."

"You what?" Hermione asked, instantly running through her head reasons why and how.

"No way," Ron said, surprised Malfoy would ever do anything remotely cool.

"Show me," Harry requested eagerly.

"Follow me," Draco said, then showed them the way to Slytherin rooms. "I've been planning to get this tattoo forever. I'm not one to get any permanent markings lightly."

He paused at a patch of smooth stone, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, trying to remember the password. "Oh, right! Ballroom." The concealed door slid open, revealing a far different common room than Harry and Ron had previously seen. Dark brown wood flooring, braided silver trim on plush rugs strewn about the room, cream colored walls, overgrown plants flowing from hanging gardens, benches of swirling green marble lining the walls, an actual piano pushed up against a wall. The most breathtaking feature of all, however, would have to be the glass ceiling overhead, revealing the giant squid, and several merpeople swimming around. When the Gryffindor trio entered, all Slytherin students momentarily stopped what they were doing to stare, before easily going back to their previous activities. Chatter, and a first year's faltering rendition of "Mars" from the Planets by Gustav Holst resumed.

Draco led them to his room. Blaise was there, laying on one of the beds, flipping through a magazine idly. Hearing their footsteps, they looked up. "Finally brought him home, have you, Dracie?" They looked Ron and Hermione up and down lewdly. "With friends. I didn't take you for that sort of man, you rascal!"

Draco only snorted, and flung a pillow at them as hard as he could. "Piss off, Zabini."

"I can tell when I'm not wanted!" Zabini sniffed, waltzing out of the dorm, but threw a wink at Draco on their way out anyways.

"They don't mean any of it," Draco hastily explained. "They're not actually attracted to anyone sexually or romantically, they just like screwing with people." Zabini had been publicly out as asexual and aromantic for about a year, and had been hexing anyone who was an ass about it ever since. That didn't mean they would be against following in their mother's footsteps, though. Seven marriages ended by mysterious deaths did mean a lot of wealth for them.

When Blaise had exited the room, Ron apprehensively asked, "What's the secrecy for? The tattoo isn't anywhere inappropriate is it?"

Draco laughed. "No! No, definitely not. It's just that if the whole school knows and it somehow gets out to my father he'll beat me within an inch of my life."

Harry grew solemn. "That's not funny to joke about."

Draco arched an eyebrow at him. "Did I say I was joking, Potter?" Harry just stared at him, which Draco pointedly ignored.

He shrugged off his robe, then pulled off the sweater underneath. He began to undo his tie, and Harry had trouble tearing his eyes away. Ron and Hermione were politely not looking at either one of them.

Draco unbuttoned the upper part of his shirt, then slipped off the right sleeve. "I'm done, and still mainly decent."

Ron and Hermione turned around.

Ron looked the tattoo over, confused. "Your tattoo is a bunch of lines?"

"Just wait." Draco pulled out his wand. "Nox. Ultra Hyacinthum." The room went dark, then lit up with a blueish light. Glowing dots began to appear in between the lines, revealing the tattoo to be of constellations, with labels off to the side.

"Woah. What spell made it do that?" Hermione asked, looking it over carefully.

"It's not a spell. It's a Muggle technique, using UV light sensitive ink. Ultra Hyacinthum casts ultraviolet light, which the ink reacts to, making it glow. Though, they did cast a spell to heal it faster and keep it from getting infected. That and a numbing spell were the only spells cast for the entire thing."

"You, a pureblood, a Malfoy, getting a tattoo done by Muggle technique?" Ron sounded skeptical. "Really?"

"I just felt like it, that's all."

"What are the words?" Hermione asked, looking closely at one on his bicep to try to read.

"Oh, those are just the names of the constellations," said Draco dismissively.

"'Regulus' isn't the name of a constellation. It's the name of a star," Hermione pointed out. "I've never heard of 'Pollux' either, and I've definitely never heard 'Bella---'"

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Oh, my God, they're your family."

Draco's face flushed, and Harry asked, "What do you mean 'they're his family'?"

"Black family tradition to be named after a star, or a constellation," Draco explained. "I think the constellation Draco is somewhere on my shoulder."

Faintly, Ron pointed out, "You have a tattoo dedicated to a bunch of Death Eaters."

"They're family," Draco said.

"They're evil!" Ron helpfully told him.

"Family," Draco repeated. "And besides, not all of them are evil Death Eaters as you so lovingly call them. Andromeda, Regulus, and Sirius weren't necessarily upstanding members of society, but they did good things."

"Wasn't Regulus a Death Eater?" Ron asked.

"He died rebelling against the Dark Lord," Draco insisted.

"How do you know that?"

"His house elf told me."

"Sirius is supposed to be locked in Azkaban for life."

"For a crime he didn't commit!" Ron looked as if he wanted to interject, but then glanced over at Harry and said nothing. Draco continued, "They were friends. He would never betray them! He was his godfather! And there was never any conclusive evidence he killed those Muggles."

Ron thought that over. "Well, I still can't believe you got a tattoo for Bellatrix Lestrange."

Draco shrugged. "She is pretty... out there," he admitted, "but she's my aunt."

"She's crazy, a Death Eater, and also locked in Azkaban for life."

"Family, Weasley. Family."

Harry looked at the ground uncomfortably, a cold aching feeling taking over his core, almost as bad as the dementors. He traced over the constellation of Draco's namesake on his shoulder.

Ron turned to Hermione and loudly said, "Hey, um, so 'Mione and I should probably get going have fun see you later Harry."

Hermione frowned for a moment, but then her eyes lit up with understanding when she caught on. "Right, yes, see you, Harry," she rushed hurriedly.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, bewildered after they had all but ran from the room.

Draco flopped down onto his bed. "They probably think we're going to kiss a bunch or something."

"Are we?" Harry sat next to him.

"Dunno. Do you want to?"

Harry just shrugged. He figured that sad, missing-his-family kissing wouldn't be nice kissing. "Who's Cygnus?" he asked, moving on to trace another constellation.

"Well, there were three Cygnuses, really. My grandfather, his grandfather, and his grandfather's grandfather. They're all dead now. I like to think they were all named after different Cygnuses. Cygnus III was probably named after the myth associated with Cygnus, son of Ares. I think Cygnus I was named after the son of Apollo. Cygnus II was definitely named after how Zeus took the form of a swan to seduce Leda, because Cygnus II named one of his sons Pollux."

Harry looked at him blankly.

"I forgot you don't pay any attention in class," said Draco lazily.

"We learn about Greek myths in class?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well, no, not really," Draco admitted, "I just like reading about them."

"Who's Pollux, then?"

"He was my... great-grandfather I think. He died just before I left for my first year at Hogwarts. Pollux is the brightest star in the constellation Gemini. In mythology, he's the son of Leda, and of Zeus disguised as a swan."

"Zeus sounds creepy," decided Harry.

Draco nodded. "He really, really is. I don't think there's a single not creepy myth with him in it."

"What about Andromeda? What's that story?" Harry begun to trace that pattern on Draco's forearm.

"Oh, she was disowned," he replied lightly as if discussing the weather. "If anyone else found out about that one, they'd hex it off me. She's one of my aunts. She married a Muggle-born, so we're not allowed to recognize she exists. The constellation Andromeda is of a princess who was chained to a rock as a sacrifice, but was saved by Perseus before that could happen."

"What about Orion?" Harry traced the hourglass-like shape near Draco's wrist.

"I think he was my great uncle or something. The constellation Orion was named after a hunter that had fallen in love with the goddess Artemis. He married his cousin which is gross, but not unheard of in pure blood families. At least he isn't Oedipus."

"Is Oedipus another constellation?"

"No, it's, ah, never mind." Draco looked a little queasy. "Bellatrix is one of the stars in Orion. She's my aunt. There's a portrait of her in one of the older rooms in the manor. She talked to me sometimes, especially when I was younger. Anything from how to catch frogs, to how to flirt with boys, to how to cast a perfect Cruciatus curse. Whenever I walked into the room I never knew if she would start talking about how to conceal weapons in formal ballroom wear, the time she and 'Cissa finger painted the halls, or the quickest ways to get information from someone." Draco laughed nervously. "She scares me."

"Really? She sounds like a perfectly lovely person to me," said Harry as sarcastically as possible. Draco still looked at him in confusion, and Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "Sarcasm, Malfoy."

Draco muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'knew that you ass.'

Harry smiled. "What about Cassiopeia?"

"Well, she was my great great aunt. The constellation Cassiopeia is of a vain queen who claimed she was more beautiful than all the Nereids in the oceans. As punishment, she was forced to sacrifice her daughter Andromeda, and be chained to a throne in the heavens for all eternity."

"That's messed up." Harry pressed a kiss to Cassiopeia. "Arcturus is a funny name. Who's that?"

"There were at least two Arcturuses in the family I know of. There might be a third, but I'm not sure. One was my great great uncle, I think. I'm bad with terms for family members past the basics. The other would have been my great great great uncle. Arcturus is Ancient Greek for 'bear guard', and was put up into the sky to guard Ursa Minor and Ursa Major."

"What about Alphard?" Harry wrinkled up his nose. "That sounds like the stuffiest name to end all stuffy names."

"He was my great uncle. Disowned, of course. He helped out Sirius when he ran away. Alphard is the brightest star at the very heart of the constellation Hydra. Hydra is either the snake that was put in Apollo's goblet so he flung it into the sky, or the hydra that Heracles had to kill for one of his Twelve Labors with all the rest of its heads burned off."

Harry picked at the blanket. "Are all constellation myths this violent?"

"Usually, yes."

Harry made a 'yikes' face. "Who's Regulus?"

"He was my mum's cousin, but I have no idea what that makes the term for me. He... was a Death Eater, but before you give me that look, he died rebelling against the Dark Lord--"

"Why do you call Voldemort 'the Dark Lord'?" Harry asked, sharply cutting him off.

Draco looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "H-habit I suppose."

"Habit?"

"My father's a Death Eater, Potter. It comes up sometimes." Draco folded his hands in his lap uncomfortably.

"'Is' or 'was'?" questioned Harry, his voice almost a threat.

"I'm sorry?" Draco asked, voice deliberately flat. He really did not want to answer that question.

"Is a Death Eater, or was a Death Eater?"

Draco shrunk in on himself, wishing he could just disappear. "Can we go back to talking about constellations, please?" he asked quietly.

Harry stood up. "I don't want to talk about your family if you're just going to tell me about more Death Eaters! Your family helped out the man who killed my parents!"

Draco winced, but continued to look down at the floor. "The-- the last two constellations aren't Death Eaters."

"Really," said Harry flatly.

"Really," Draco repeated, pleading. "There's Sirius Black, and me."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. "Sirius Black is trying to kill me!"

"No, he's not. He would never," Draco insisted, finally looking up at Harry. "Do you know why he was disowned, Potter? He ran away, and your father took him in. He's your godfather, Harry. He would never hurt you." Harry didn't say anything, so Draco continued. "Sirius is the brightest star of Canis Major, and the brightest star in the entire night sky."

Harry looked at the constellation Draco. "What's the last one then?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know me already, Potter." When Harry didn't say anything, he continued, "Draco is Latin for dragon. The constellation is one of the largest in the sky. The myth most commonly associated with it is Hercules' Twelve Labors. Draco represents the dragon Ladon, tasked with guarding the golden apples of Hesperides that Hercules was sent to retrieve. Hercules killed the dragon and stole the apples. Hera was so saddened by the death of Ladon that she placed his image in the sky coiled around the North Pole, with Hercules' foot pinning his head down."

"You're named after a dead dragon," summed up Harry, unimpressed.

Draco gave him a dirty look, lacking most of its usual venom. "Lumos." The lights turned back on, and he slipped back on the rest of his shirt, buttoning it up all the way. "A dead dragon made of stars, excuse you." He redid his tie.

"Whatever," said Harry, still upset over Draco's Death Eater filled family tree.

"Yeah," came Draco's clipped reply. "You should probably catch up with Weasley and Granger. The feast's about to start."

Despite being in a mood, Harry still asked, "See you there?"

Draco only made a noncommittal noise, then Harry left his room, and Slytherin house.

Having been left alone, Draco was left to sort over the conversation. He refused to apologize for his family, because while he didn't choose his family, his loyalty would always be to blood first and foremost. Despite that, he didn't want Harry to apologize either, because his anger was fully justified, and holding that against him would be the most dick move Draco had ever pulled. This was just the first time the concept of choosing between his family and his own values had been brought up in his mind. Draco never wanted to be like them, but if he ever had to decide... he didn't know what he would choose, if he even could.

Draco didn't come down to the feast.


	6. Prisoner of Azkaban: Harry Potter and Who The Fuck is Helen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the Trojan War references.  
> ... and also all the other mythology references last chapter. Whoops.

Hermione and Ron listened remarkably well considering all the distractions and amazements occurring during the feast. "I'm not going to apologize, but I will talk to him," Harry concluded, then yawned.  
"... Tomorrow."

This was all forgotten when the trio of Gryffindors saw the torn painting.

When the other Slytherins returned from the feast, Draco was buried under a pile of blankets, reading through a Muggle book of scientific theories, making notes in the margins.

"Hey Malfoy, does this count as nesting?" Blaise asked loudly as they walked in the door, falling dramatically onto Draco's bed. "Should I be worried that you're going to lay eggs?"

"Fuck off, Blaise," declared Draco, circling the page number of the beginning of a section on wormholes, writing 'Apparition?' off to the side.

"No, this isn't nesting," Pansy declared, sitting on Draco's bed as well, ruffling up his hair. "This is the infamous Malfoy Sulk, just with more blankets than usual."

Draco wrinkled his nose at her and pulled a blanket closer. "'M not sulking, just questioning some things."

"Ah, a Malfoy Existential Crisis." Pansy snatched the blanket from Draco and pulled it over herself. "That's terrible."

Blaise, from their position wriggled underneath Draco's blanket pile, ohh'ed thoughtfully. They asked, "On a scale of one to realizing that hairstyle was terrible, how bad is it?"

Draco glared at them, then sighed, because it really had been terrible, and he was glad to be a mature thirteen year old making better decisions now. "Try questioning loyalties."

"Ooh, now should I be telling your father about this?"

Draco looked as if he had seen Death itself. "Please, please, please, please never tell anyone this. They'll kill me-- well no they won't kill me, but they'd declare me a blood traitor, and burn me from the family tree, and I'd have nowhere to go. Please don't," he rushed out in one breath.

"Hey, hey, relax Malfoy, relax. I'm not going to tell him," Blaise assured him. "I was just joking. Your secret is safe with me. Unless I need to blackmail you for something, in which case all bets are off.

Draco took a calming breath, then leveled them a steady look. "Likewise, breaking your mother's broomstick when you were six."

Pansy snorted at Blaise's horrified expression. "I promise too, Draco. Your secret is safe."

"You're good friends," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Pansy and Blaise both pretended not to have heard him. "I couldn't hear you."

"I said you're useless and only good as means to an end. Now fuck off." He waved a hand at them to leave, the effect of which was diminished by how his hair was sticking up like bird feathers, and the impressive amount of blankets he was buried under.

"Aw, Dracie... don't be like that," Pansy simpered, leaning over onto him.

"Yeah, that's rude," Blaise told him. "Besides, I don't plan to leave this spot until class tomorrow morning except to change out of these robes."

This plan was interrupted by a Slytherin Prefect dashing into the room. "We're all needed in the Great Hall immediately."

She began to run back out again, but was stopped by Blaise's question. "But, why?"

She swung her head back in the room, still half out the door. "I don't bloody know, Zabini! Get a move on, you three!"

When Dumbledore conjured up enough sleeping bags for the whole student body-- who knew there was a spell for that? -- the Slytherin trio looked for the Gryffindor one, figuring they must have answers of all people. They're usually at the epicenter of things.

When they found them, they walked over. "Hey." Draco sat cross-legged down on the floor and poked Harry. "What's going on? We're not getting anything solid."

"Sirius Black invaded the castle tonight while we were at the feast," said Hermione, her twisting fingers betraying her calm tone. "He shredded up the painting of the Fat Lady in front of Gryffindor commons."

"You're shitting me?" Pansy said shrilly, glancing around as if Sirius might appear out of thin air.

"No, she's not," said Harry defensively, his clipped tone and tense body language betraying any form of calm he tried to project.

Draco anxiously traced Canis Major on his forearm.

With that information in mind, the Slytherin trio began to walk off, but Ron stopped them. "Where are you going to?"

Blaise pointed a green and silver painted thumb in the general direction of the rest of the room. "Sleep."

"Why not sleep over here?" Ron offered.

"Because you hate us...?" Blaise asked as if it were obvious.

"Bloody hell, I'm trying to be friendly!"

"A Gryffindor being friendly to a group of Slytherins?" Pansy mused, grabbing a sleeping bag and dragging it over, "Must be a miracle."

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, fellas," Blaise recommended, similarly grabbing a bag. "And by 'fellas' I mean fella, and lady."

"I appreciate being called a lady, Blaise." Pansy crawled inside the sleeping bag. "Keep it up and I might just forget that incident involving nine tubes of toothpaste, the top of Ravenclaw tower, and my favorite pair of shoes."

Blaise looked more terrified for their life than when informed Sirius Black was on the loose.

"I've never understood that phrase..." Draco yawned, and pulled over a sleeping bag as well. "Is it a reference to the Trojan horse?"

"If that's a Trojan horse, and Ron is Achaean, what does that make the rest of us?" Hermione wondered, not exactly expecting an answer.

"Hmm. So if Greece is Gryffindor, that might as well make Troy be Slytherin," Draco offered. "Who's Paris and who's Helen?"

"You get to be Paris," said Hermione.

"Lovely. Unskilled, cowardly homewrecker, that's me. Does that make Potter Helen?"

Hermione snorted.

At that time, Percy shouted that the lights were going out and it was time to sleep, then the candles went, leaving only the light of the ghosts.


	7. Prisoner of Azkaban: Harry Potter and Realizing People Care About Him / Draco Malfoy and Breaking Homophobes' Noses

The next week Draco had been asked what felt like at least twenty times by the Golden Trio alone if he knew how Sirius had gotten in, or what he was planning. "For the last time, I have no idea how he, or anyone for that matter, could possibly have gotten past Hogwarts' barriers." Not that he hadn't been looking into it. Draco was sure there would be ways around them of course, but nothing he had come across could have been achieved without extensive planning and work on the inside.

Marcus Flint marched into the Slytherin commons, glowering even worse than usual. He grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him up to his feet. "Corridor. Now."

When they were out of the common room, Flint snarled, "Gryffindor is up against Hufflepuff next Quidditch game thanks to you."

"Wait, what?! What did I do?" Draco asked.

"You got your pretty little self injured." Flint's perpetual sneer deepened.

"That was ages ago! My arm is fine!"

"Pomfrey says you're 'not fit to play'," Flint said, looking as if he wanted to punch a hole through the wall. Or through Draco's head. "It may be useful considering the stormy weather, but there's been talk of Slytherin getting disqualified from the Quidditch cup."

"The hell is 'not fit to play' supposed to mean?!"

"I don't know, but that's what she said, so fix it."

Draco resolutely stared up at his team captain, getting an uncomfortably clear view of Flint's nose hairs. "I will."

Draco turned and ran down to the infirmary. He needed to talk to Madam Pomfrey.

He heard Flint mutter something somewhat along the lines of "prissy little fairy" behind them and he vowed to see Flint's nose broken for the fifth time.

Talking with Pomfrey wasn't going all  
too well.

"But--!"

"No 'but's Mr. Malfoy! You are not fit to fly!"

"'Not fit to fly'?! I'm fine!"

"When will we be able to play Gryffindor?" the Slytherin Keeper asked dully. Flint had passed word around of the situation, and they had all went to Madam Pomfrey to fix the clear mistake of not letting them play.

"I will let you know when," she said calmly, even more so than seemed possible for someone surrounded by some of the largest, roughest Quidditch players Slytherin had ever seen. And also Draco.

"What do I need to do to be cleared?" Draco all but begged.

"I will let you know. Now get out, all of you! I need to talk with Draco alone."

After the rest of the Slytherin team had cleared out, Pomfrey turned to face Draco directly. "I know your arm is fine, but we need to have a serious talk about your Veela genetics."

"You think that's going to affect Quidditch?" Draco asked incredulously. "It hasn't seriously affected anything so far."

"I think it's a wild card we don't know how to deal with yet." Madam Pomfrey fixed him with a serious look. "This is also about your relationship with Mr. Potter..."

"What? That won't be an issue! It's not like we're going to start snogging on the field or anything!"

Madam Pomfrey looked suddenly triumphant. "Hah! Minerva owes me ten Galleons."

"You're kidding, right?"

"About the temporary suspension on your position as Seeker? No, but you'll still be able to play Ravenclaw during your upcoming match with them."

"But that's ages away!" he protested. "I'll still be able to practice, right?"

"Hmm... Yes, I suppose so. Might as well see if it does affect your playing in an environment other than at an actual match."

The next time Harry saw Draco in the halls, he pulled him off to the side. "So what's the switched match about? Your arm is fine."

Draco sighed and crossed his arms. "Pomfrey considers my Veela genetics to be some sort of wild card, so she doesn't want to risk anything at a match until she knows more." He tilted his head, and laced his hands together with Harry's. "Did you know the teachers had some sort of pool going on whether or not we were together?"

"Really? Interesting." Harry said absently, then leaned forward and kissed Draco softly.

When they broke apart, Draco resolutely said, "Be careful, Potter. I don't want to see you hurt out in that storm."

"I will be careful," Harry promised, and kissed Draco's forehead. Then he froze, and hissed out, "Oh, hell I'm late for DADA."

With as much speed as he could master, Harry ran off to class.

The umbrellas didn't seem to be doing anyone much of good, what with the wind pushed the rain sideways half the time. Which fact left Draco, along with the rest of the student body, absolutely soaked in the stands.

Harry couldn't see specifically where Draco was, but he flashed a grin in the general direction of the Slytherin section.

When Harry woke up in the hospital, he saw his entire team, Ron, Hermione, and Draco standing around his bed.

After the team had filtered out, and Hermione had shown the dejected Harry the remains of his shattered broom, Draco stepped up to Harry's bed. "You promised you'd be careful, Potter."

"I was as careful as I could be," Harry said, pointing through the window at the raging storm outside.

"Pardon my language, Pomfrey, but don't you fucking dare do that ever again," Draco spat out.

"I can't make any promises on that, Malfoy. It's not like I'm actively searching out ways to get hurt."

"At least try, damn it!" Draco snapped. "We thought you were dead, Potter."

"Oh," Harry said. Suddenly a lot of things made more sense.

"Yeah. Get some rest, or whatever Madam Pomfrey says will help," Draco said, then walked out of the hospital wing.

A few mornings later, Draco sat down in front of Fred and George. He looked at the twin on the right. "George." He looked to the twin on the left. "Fred. I don't suppose there's any way I could convince you to break Flint's nose, is there?"

"Flint?" they asked.

"Marcus Flint."

"Oh, Slytherin team captain. Nasty bloke--"

"--Is there dissent in the ranks?"

"Something like that."

"What's in it for us?"

"I figured the chance of breaking his nose might be tempting enough, but name it, and I'll get it."

"Anything?" George asked eagerly.

"Within reason," amended Draco.

"How about a favor--" Fred suggested.

"-- to be payed off later?" finished George.

Draco considered it for a moment. "Agreeing to that would be the most stupid thing I've ever done." Dealing with a Weasley twin felt like the legends of dealing with Fae. Legends of which contained warnings he was fully ignoring. "So of course."

"Deal," they said, grinning.

Draco stood up, and went over to sit at his own table. Before he could leave, Fred asked, "What did he do?"

"Oh, he called me a 'prissy little fairy'. If he does it again I'll hex his nose hairs to tap dance right up to his tiny little brain."

"How should we do it?" George asked.

"Bludger. Next Slytherin v. Gryffindor. Shouldn't be too difficult."


	8. Prisoner of Azkaban: Draco Malfoy and the Overwhelming Urge to Fake His Own Death and Move to Another Country

The next time Draco and Harry met, Harry looked absolutely furious, and Draco figured it might be in his best interests to turn and run the other way. Before he could back out of the situation, Harry hit him as hard as he could.

"Wha--" Draco tried to ask, but Harry grabbed the front of his robes and shoved him against a wall, knocking the breath out of him.

"Why didn't you tell me Sirius Black betrayed my parents?" Harry demanded.

"He didn't. Couldn't have."

"What do you mean? He was their Secret Keeper, and he told Voldemort where they were!"

"He wouldn't have," insisted Draco.

"How else would you explain it!"

"I don't- I don't know, but he wouldn't! He absolutely wouldn't hurt your family and especially not you."

Harry let go of Draco and wiped his hands off as if he had just been touching something disgusting. "Right, because he and my father were like brothers and he's my godfather."

"Exactly," Draco agreed, missing the sarcasm entirely. "He wouldn't hurt you."

Harry sighed. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"I- I was afraid."

"Afraid," Harry repeated flatly.

"Of this!" Draco threw his hands up. "I didn't want to see you like this."

"Why didn't you tell me he was my godfather?" asked Harry, refusing to acknowledge what 'this' looked like.

"You think he's trying to kill you. Why would you want to know?"

"My parents are dead because of him, Malfoy," Harry reminded Draco angrily. "I deserve to know."

"He's a good man, Potter, by your standards. He loved you and your parents more than anything in the world. I don't know what happened, but I do know that."

Harry fixed him with a stare, then walked away.

Draco left for all of the rest of the holidays.

When the term resumed, they didn't talk. And in this case, 'didn't talk' meant that Harry avoided Draco at all costs.

Fed up with Harry's avoidance, Draco turned to Harry's friends. "Granger, Potter is ignoring me. What do I do?"

"I'll let you know when he stops ignoring me," she answered shortly.

"He is such an idiot!" Draco groaned. "All I did was answer him when he asked me about Sirius Black!"

"And all I did was try to watch out for him," Hermione said. "I doubt he can stay mad at friends for long, though."

Harry looked over at Ron, who was sulking over Scabbers' most recent disappearance. "Mate, I know I'm not talking to Draco, but this kind of sucks."

Ron just shrugged.

"Hey," Hermione greeted Draco as she walked into the library. Harry had finally started talking to her again. "If the situation resolves itself, he stops ignoring you."

Surrounded by piles of books, Draco responded, "Well, that's not going to help much for me, but thank you."

"Are you studying for Study of Ancient Runes?" asked Hermione, trying to read the titles of Draco's books.

"Yes. I'm having trouble with the numbers. Zero, four, and seven make absolutely no sense."

"No, they do make sense. Here," Hermione said, sitting down in the chair opposite Draco, "let me help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: in the books, Draco is always just behind Hermione in grades and that's (a small) part of the reason why he's a jerk to her all the time


	9. Prisoner of Azkaban: Harry Potter and the Unnecessary Romantic Conflict

Throughout the Gryffindor v. Ravenclaw game, Harry avoided looking at the Slytherin section. He was still angry with Draco for not telling him all he knew about Sirius, but he almost felt bad, and wanted to avoid any confrontation as much as possible.

After the game, when the team finally followed where the 'Dementors' were, Draco Malfoy was already standing in front of them, chewing them out. He seemed to have been the only member of the Slytherin Quidditch team not dressed up as a Dementor.

"What the hell were you thinking?! You could've gotten him killed!"

"Since when did you care?" asked Flint.

"Since when did I--?! Since when did I care?! Are you as thick as you are ugly?"

"Oh, right, I forgot." Flint snickered. He looked over to his closest teammate and said, not even bothering to lower his voice, "The only thing worse than a Malfoy is a gay one."

"Nase capilli sursum tripudi!" Draco shouted. "Citius!"

A sickening crack rung out on the pitch, and Flint looked up, horrified, with the front of his robes quickly drenched in blood pouring from his nose.

"Make that stop, you little--!!"

"He did it!" Fred shouted, highfiving George.

"The absolute madman..." George agreed.

"Malfoy!" shouted McGonnagal, "Stop that curse right now!"

"Prohibe."

"You could have killed him! You could have given him permanent brain damage!" She turned to the crew of faux Dementors and yelled, "Detention for all of you, and fifty points from Slytherin!" She turned back to Draco. "I should have you expelled for such use of Dark magic."

Draco didn't say anything, but he did swallow hard, looking away from her, and turn far more pale.

"... But I will not. I haven't had to expel a student yet, and I do not wish to start now. Detention, and fifteen points from Slytherin."

"Yes, Professor."

A few weeks or so after the game, Ron called out loudly in the halls as Draco was passing, "Oh, Harry, have you seen Ravenclaw's Seeker?"

"Yeah, she's gorgeous," replied Harry, not quite as loud as Ron, but still loud enough to hear. "Really pretty."

"You should ask her out," Ron suggested, still very loudly.

"Yeah, maybe," Harry said, with a quite bit less enthusiasm than Ron.

Draco stormed into his dorm room, and declared, "Pansy, Blaise, I hate boys. Absolutely despise them."

"Draco, sweetie, there's a reason why you're the only boy I ever voluntarily go near," Pansy said dismissively, but still leaned forward from her spot perched on a nearby bed to hear more.

"Is this about Harry?" Blaise asked. "Do I need to hex him?"

"Okay, enough of this. I came here to complain, but I honestly don't want to talk about it anymore. Pansy, how's Hermione?"

"I've moved on from my crush," Pansy replied with an air of superiority.

"Moved on implies someone else," Blaise observed. "Who is it, Parkinson?"

"Daphne Greengrass," she said with a small smile.

A few hours later, the topic had switched to Harry despite Draco's claim of not wanting to talk about it.

"You should start flirting with Cedric," Blaise suggested from where they were sitting to braid Pansy's hair.

Draco considered it for a moment, then decided, "While that's a brilliant idea, and very tempting, I'm going to try to talk to him first."

"Didn't you just say he's ignoring you?" Pansy pointed out.

"I-- yes," Draco said dejectedly, "but I'm not giving up yet."

Just outside the Shrieking Shack, Draco was standing quietly, and Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him, awkwardly shuffling about, wondering what they were at the dilapidated shack for.

When Ron saw them, he very nearly turned back to avoid them, but Harry, still hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, told him to wait. He snuck around behind the Slytherin group, and scooped up a handful of mud.

It hit Draco squarely in the back of the head, and then another ball of mud hit both Crabbe and Goyle. Then a stick was flung, then Crabbe was tripped by an invisible force.

Unfortunately, after Harry had tripped Crabbe, both Crabbe and Draco saw his Invisibility Cloak come off. Crabbe and Goyle took off down the hill shortly after that.

Draco looked at Harry expressionlessly, despite the freezing mud dripping down the back of his robes. "I should've known you have an Invisibility Cloak, Potter. You seem to collect impossible things."

"What do you want?" asked Harry apprehensively.

"Other than for you to talk to me again? To get this muck off of me." Draco looked down the path Crabbe had ran away along. "Crabbe is likely to report you to Snape, so you should probably get back to Hogwarts before he does."

"See you later," Harry said, then ran back down the hill.

The next day, Harry pulled Draco aside in the halls. "Hey! Over here, Malfoy."

When Harry said nothing else, Draco spoke up. "Talk to me."

Harry kissed him instead.

"This isn't talking. We still need to talk," Draco said, but didn't protest when Harry kissed him again. "Are we still dating?"

"Uhh." Kiss. "Yes."

"Then what the hell was that about Cho Chang?"

"She is pretty, you must admit," Harry offered as a reason, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist.

"I suppose." Then Draco grinned as he remembered what his friends had said. "Parkinson and Zabini said I should start flirting with Cedric Diggory to see how you liked it."

Harry stammered. "Cedric?!" He looked down, considering it. "Shit... He's attractive, too. If anyone asks, I apparently do have a type and it's Quidditch Seekers."

"You like this Seeker best, though, right?" Draco asked with a smirk, then kissed Harry again.

Harry sighed dramatically. "Against all better judgement, yes."

Draco shrugged. "That's too bad. I hear Diggory's great at snogging."

"You're insufferable!" Harry shoved him.

Draco rested his chin on top of Harry's head. Awkward growth spurts do have their perks. "You love me, though."

Leaning in, Harry groaned, "Oh, God, I think I do. Merlin help me I think I love you."

"That definitely isn't in your best interests," Draco admitted. In a softer tone, he added, "Love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first off that's probably the sweetest thing I've ever written what the hell.
> 
> Secondly, the most fun part of HP fics for me is making up spells cause like. as a Latin III student, this is definitely a practical use of my time. Also the spells are  
> (As a command) "Nose hairs dance upwards! Faster!"  
> (Also as a command) "Stop."


	10. Prisoner of Azkaban: Harry Potter and the Sore Loser

"And here are the Gryffindors!" Jordan Lee announced, "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years. And here comes the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill.

"Now, rumor has it our two Seekers here are in a relationship. Potter, mind telling up if thats true?"

"Oh, shut up, Lee!" Harry called up at the commentator.

"Malfoy, care to enlighten us?"

Draco flushed bright red. He turned to Harry and grinned, then yelled, "Not on the field, Lee!"

"Oooh, lover's rivalry! Make sure not to fall out when Gryffindor wi--"

"That is enough, Jordan!" McGonagall reprimanded him. "We're here for Quidditch, not idle gossip!"

Fred Weasley, a man of his word, smacked Flint in the back of the head at the beginning of the game, sending his nose directly into his broom handle, shattering it.

The match went to Gryffindor overwhelmingly, winning them the Quidditch Cup.

When the crowd of enthusiastic Gryffindors had loosened up slightly, Harry sprinted forward to take Draco's arm, and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"I fucking hate you," Draco said, not exactly the most gracious loser.

"You love me," Harry sung, leaning on Draco.

Draco halfheartedly tried to shove him away. "Piss off."

Harry paused for a moment, pretending to consider leaving him be, then said, "Nah. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me."

Draco snarled, so naturally Harry's best course of action would be to kiss him square on the mouth. When he did so, the Gryffindor crowd burst into even louder cheers.

Draco could barely remember how he ended up just outside Gryffindor's common room, but there he was.

"That was the dirtiest match I've ever played," Harry informed him.

"I feel like I'm supposed to make a horrible joke here, or a poorly worded pickup line, but I can't think straight for the life of me."

"Wow, being unable to think straight? Does that happen often with you?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Fuck off, Potter."

"Mm, nope."

Draco sighed. "Flint is going to break every bone in my body when I get back to Slytherin."

"Stay the night here then. Let him cool down for a bit."

"Hah! Then McGonagall would be the one to break every bone in my body. Goodnight, Potter," said Draco, then he walked back to his room.

When Harry walked through the portrait to the common room, George greeted him with, "... So when's the wedding, Harry?"


	11. Prisoner of Azkaban: Harry Potter and the Inevitable "I told you so."

Harry was still smiling at the thought of leaving the Dursleys when he realized it. "Fuck!"

"What?" Sirius rasped, turning back to look at Harry, "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing important. Just--" Harry sighed. "Draco was right." He swore again.

"Who's Draco?" asked Sirius.

"Git," Ron replied up ahead.

At the exact same time, Harry replied, "Boyfriend."

"He kept saying you were innocent," said Hermione.

"Draco... Malfoy? Narcissa's child?" Sirius asked.

"Yes." Harry watched carefully for Sirius' reaction.

Sirius nodded reflectively, then said nothing else.

After the trio was released from the hospital wing, Draco walked up to them triumphantly. "I hear Black has escaped again. Snape is livid, and apparently he says you three had something to do with it. I believe you have something to say to me?"

"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy!" Harry said without any real venom. "You were right, now go away."

"You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me, Potter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no. You've found my secret. I only ever used chapters to get rid of awkward transitions, making them even more awkward.
> 
> Also yeah this was the end of the Prisoner of Azkaban. Wooo. Next up: The Goblet of Fire, where we learn how Rita Skeeter takes the relationship, and, even worse, how Lucius Malfoy takes it. Also probably Weasleys ???? Yeah, Weasleys. I love them.


End file.
